


Carpathian Sanctuary

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Charlie Weasley - character, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Millicent Bulstrode - character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-07
Updated: 2010-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-12 12:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Charlie laid eyes on her four years ago, and it was the same as the first time he spotted a Welsh Green in flight. Heart racing, breath caught, eyes wide, skin tingling. He'd sworn he'd never fall in love until he met a woman who could match that feeling.</i></p><p>He's never taken his eyes off her since.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carpathian Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> The location of the Romanian dragon sanctuary's never stated in canon; I've set it in the Carpathian Mountains.

Long, solid limbs packed with thick bands of muscle. A penetrating, bright gaze full of cunning and the joy of the wind. An elegant neck, broad shoulders. Talons that can shred an unwary man to his bones. A voice that roars and screams and echoes off mountains. That's how Charlie likes his dragons.

It's also how he likes his women.

He kicks open the door of the ancient goatherd's hut and drops an armload of maps on the table. Migration patterns, breeding zones, territories of the males drawn out in green and purple ink. He scrubs one hand through the spikes of his hair, close-cropped against fire and almost brown with dust blown into it from a female's defense of her eggs. Coat tossed onto a hook, boots kicked under a bench beside the door, and he stretches, groaning with relief as a muscle loosens in his back.

He crouches beside the hearth and stirs up the banked embers, grinning to himself as he replaces the iron poker. It had taken him ages to convince her to bank the fire before she wandered off on her research journeys, reminding her of the necessity of heat in a Romanian winter. She would stare at him with a bright, unblinking gaze. "You're a wizard," she'd say, her low voice filling his chest with sultry heat. "That's what magic is _for_."

He eats a quick meal, stew and a chunk of brown bread, and puts the kettle on a hook over the hearthfire. He's just taken it off the fire when the door opens, wind howling past, and slams closed behind Millicent.

"Sodding chamois herd's shifted again," she grumbles, dropping a journal stuffed with notes and sketches on top of his maps and shrugging off her thick coat. "Gonna have to start over on my count." She huffs and stands behind him, reaching over his shoulders to warm her hands.

Charlie takes one of her hands and rubs it between his, warming the chilled flesh. "You know you should wear gloves," he tells her, looking up, the top of his head resting against her thigh.

"You know I can't draw with gloves on," she tells him. Her tone is irritated, but a smile twitches at one corner of her mouth. It's a long-standing argument, and they'd both miss it if they ever stopped.

He stands and turns, drawing her into his arms, tilting his head up for a kiss. She's at least three inches taller than him, even when she's not wearing her heavy boots with the solid heels, and he loves it. Millicent has the power and strength of a dragon in full prime. Charlie laid eyes on her four years ago, and it was the same as the first time he spotted a Welsh Green in flight. Heart racing, breath caught, eyes wide, skin tingling. He'd sworn he'd never fall in love until he met a woman who could match that feeling.

He's never taken his eyes off her since.

She murmurs into the kiss and draws back, her brows lifted. "Well?" she says, prodding his chest just over his heart. "Going to show me or do I have to find it on my own?"

Charlie grins. His short trip into Sibiu over the weekend had ended as it always did, in Dumitrescu's tattoo studio. By this point, it's almost a game for Millicent to find the new addition in the swirl of colors and shapes that cover his arms and his back. "I'll give you a hint," he says, pushing the kettle aside to keep warm. "It's green."

"Another moving one?" she asks, fingers trailing down his stomach to hook in the waistband of his dragonhide trousers. She pops the button open and wriggles beneath to scrape her nails over his hip.

Charlie twitches and laughs, nodding. "Is there any other kind?" With a waggle of his brows, he jumps back and dives for the door to their bedroom. "Join me in the shower and I'll let you make it dance."

" _Let_ me, Charlie Weasley?" Millicent snorts as she follows him. "Try to stop me."


End file.
